


The Queen from the Stars

by celinamarniss



Series: Legacy [5]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bechdel Test Pass, Dathomir, Dathomir: Land of Magic and Misandry, F/M, Gender politics, Hapes, High Fantasy Star Wars, Matriarchal society, Queer Characters, the time-honored tradition of telling Threepio to shut up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-15
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2019-02-14 21:32:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13016559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celinamarniss/pseuds/celinamarniss
Summary: Teneniel Djo, leader of the witches of the Singing Mountain Valley, faces a dilemma when the head of the Jedi Order comes to Dathomir in search of the missing Prince Isolder of Hapes.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Previously in the Legacy 'verse:
> 
> Luke Skywalker died on Bespin during the events of The Empire Strikes Back, leaving behind a pregnant Mara Jade who would give birth to their son, Ben Skywalker. Mara and Ben spent seven years on the run from Darth Vader and the Emperor, before finally facing and defeating the Sith Lords. After the death of the Emperor, Mara returned to the New Republic and founded a new Jedi Order. Among her new Jedi are her son and adopted daughter, a Force-sensitive Noghri named Meena.
> 
>  
> 
> The names of the Hapan Houses and any political background on Hapes was invented by frangipani. Thanks for letting me play with your Hapan worldbuilding.

Pale morning light streamed over the Valley of Singing Mountain as Teneniel Djo woke, the last wisps of a dream slipping from her mind, images fading as she became conscious of the world around her. Her dreams had been uneasy, as the dreams of foretelling always were, but in the light of day she couldn’t decipher the message the fragments of image and emotion had held. They left her with a heavy feeling, the feeling of a warning unheeded.

She rose, restless, and paced to the window, her eyes on the brightening sky, though it held nothing except a flock of thrillit birds that swooped across the valley, hunting gnats. Winter had been long, and spring slow to arrive; the trees were still bare and she shivered as a gust of air brushed at the heavy curtains and plucked at the robe she wore. It smelled like rain. Her husband stirred, lifting his head from the pallet to watch her, a soft, gentle look on his face that made her heart warm with approval. It was the sort of adoring gaze that looked best on a man.

"The Jai Queen comes today," she reminded him. 

Isolder nodded and climbed out of bed to help her dress for the day. She watched as he opened the chest that held her finest ceremonial robes, selecting clothes fit for meeting a Jai Queen, shaking them out and holding them to the light. He helped her slip on a deep blue dress of shimmering reptile hide long enough to touch her toes, shod in soft leather boots, and over that, he placed a golden mantle, so heavily embroidered that she could feel the weight pulling on her shoulders. Her arms were left bare except for the lightning scars that covered them like heavy lacework, marks of honor from many battles with Nightsisters.

Isolder then brought out a stool so that she could sit as he brushed out her long hair. “As beautiful as the sand of the Red Hills,” he liked to say of the color.

“Remember when you first came to me, and you didn’t even know to make a simple braid?” Teneniel said as he skillfully wove together the strands and pinned up her hair. She turned her head slightly so that she could smile up at him.

Isolder chuckled. “I was so useless back then.”

On top of the crown of braids she would wear her ceremonial helm, forged from a metal so dark it was nearly black, which rose like the branches of a tree above her head. The antlers were hung with small silver rings that had been torn out of the breathing apparatus of the helmets of stormtroopers she had killed. _Gaskets,_ Isolder called them. For the final touch, she selected two heavy silver bracelets to adorn her wrists, gifted to her by the people of the Frenzied River before Nightsisters had wiped out the entire clan.

Before leaving the room, Teneniel embraced her husband, running a hand down the long braid that hung down his back. "You're my favorite husband," she told him. "My fallen star." Isolder was her third; the others had all been cut down by Nightsisters. He had fallen out of the sky many years ago, his ship crashing in the wastes not far from Teneniel's territory. There had been only a couple of survivors. The sole surviving woman had been killed by a Nightsister a few years later, and all three men had been married off to clanswomen. Isolder was the most beautiful of the men, so he was hers.

\- -

Before Teneniel had been born, the Imperials had come to Dathomir, told the people that the planet was theirs, built a garrison on the planet’s surface, and placed their ships in Dathomir's sky. The witches had resisted, as they had resisted all invaders; as they had once fought the Drackmarians who had tried to claim their land, and had even had taken down a great Jai ship once. They battled the Imperials, their stormtroopers in their white shell armor and their giant mechanical monsters, in a bloody conflict that stretched out over decades, a diversion from their centuries-long war with the Nightsister clans.

Ten years ago the Imperial masters had been defeated on a planet far away, and a few years after their fall soldiers from the New Republic had claimed the Imperial garrison as their own. They sent out shuttles to negotiate with the clans, insisting that they only wanted peaceful trade with the Dathomiri, but Teneniel still didn’t trust them. Over time the Singing Mountain Clan developed an uneasy alliance with the New Republic soldiers stationed on their planet. As both sides battled the Nightsisters, they formed a tentative alliance founded on the struggle against a mutual enemy.

It was the New Republic soldiers who had brought word that the Jai Queen wished to parley with her and had agreed to Teneniel’s terms, that the meeting would take place in her own territory with her warriors by her side. The witches had legends about the Jai, stories of powerful spellcasters from the stars, but no Jai had set foot on Dathomir in over four hundred years. In the last encounter, the witches had been victorious, destroying one of the great ships of the Jai, and Teneniel didn’t know if the Jai seeked revenge for that defeat.

\- -

The day was grey and rain swept across the valley in sheets. From a window, Teneniel watched as the Jai Queen’s ship cut through the rain, soaring in a graceful arc across the valley before coming to rest just beyond the village, in a clearing that had been paved with stones as a landing pitch for visiting shuttles.

She heard Isolder’s intake of breath beside her, and at an inquiring tilt of her head, he said: “A beautiful ship. Such graceful lines.”

“You flew ships like that one?” she asked. He didn’t speak often of his life before Dathomir.

“I flew Hapan ships, which are very different from that one. I was a good pilot once.” There was a look of longing on his face for the life he had before he was hers. She didn’t like it.

It reminded Teneniel of the keen longing she had once felt as stared up at the stars; how she’d once dreamed of flying away herself. The visions she’d conjured of walking on strange planets had been so vivid, that for a time she’d been convinced that they were dreams of foretelling, but that hadn’t proved to be the case. She’d been very young then, and lonely. That was before she had met Isolder, before she had taken Talas and Rien and Isolder as her husbands; before her grandmother had been killed and she had been called to lead her people.

Allya, the mother of all Dathomir witches, had come from the stars as well. _She came bearing the book of law and the book of night,_ the ballad went, _singing the songs that called the magic of Dathomir out of the earth and into the blood._ No Dathomiri witch had left the planet since.

Several hooded figures departed from the Jai ship, hurrying through the rain to the armed guard that waited for them at the edge of the village. Damaya, the one-armed captain of the war witches, who guided them toward the fortress. The rain began to let up as they approached.

It was time.

Teneniel took her place at the head of the great hall, holding the staff of leadership, a rod of intricately carved golden wood with a milkstone gem at the top. She was flanked by the Elder Sisters of the clan, powerful spellcasters who were no longer capable of serving as warriors and had earned their retirement from battle. Lining the walls of the hall were Teneniel’s warriors, hard-eyed and battle-scarred, the antlers of their helms glinting in the light, and grouped behind them was a small crowd, residents of fortress who wanted to get a glimpse at the exotic strangers from the stars. The men of the fortress took their place to the side, out of the way and close to a doorway, in case things took a violent turn. In Teneniel’s experience, things often did.

A murmur swept through the crowd as Damaya led the Jai Queen into the room. She didn’t look at all the way Teneniel expected the queen of the powerful Jai would look; under her dark cloak, she wore the simple clothes of a peasant, cut in an off-world style in layered dark greens and browns—no embroidery at all! Her hair was lighter and more golden-red than Teneniel’s, and held back in a simple fishtail braid. She didn't carry a blaster or a pike, but wore a silver cylinder at her waist like a weapon. It would be easy to hide knives in the folds of her outfit, Teneniel thought, but if she had the powers that Jai were rumored to have, she wouldn’t need them. Teneniel had expected her to be taller.

She was accompanied by a small and peculiar entourage. Beside her walked a man made of gold, his steps stiff and arms akimbo. It was a droid, Teneniel knew, though she had never seen one like it, and it struck her as bizarre that a machine could take the shape of a _man._ A young man with hair as red as the Jai Queen followed—her son, Teneniel surmised, and thus under her protection—along with a small gray alien of a species unknown to Teneniel. They both dressed in a similar style to their queen, and each wore a silver cylinder at their waists.

The Jai Queen carried a broken spear which she placed on the floor between her and Teneniel. As a symbol of truce between two warring clans, it wasn’t quite appropriate, since the Singing Mountain Clan had never been at war with the New Republic and was not currently at war the Jai, but it Teneniel appreciated the gesture, as clumsy as it was.

"Welcome to Dathomir, Queen of the Jai and Emissary of the New Republic," Teneniel’s voice rang through the hall with a clear, cold formality.

The golden droid bowed stiffly at the waist and began: “Greetings to you, Mother Teneniel Djo of the Singing Mountain Clan. We wish to thank your majesty for so generously granting us an audience. I am C3-PO, human-cyborg relations. May I present Master Mara Jade of the Jedi Order—”

The Jai Queen inclined her head in an imperious fashion and Teneniel returned the gesture, the gaskets in her helm tinkling softly.

“...Jedi Knight Ben Skywalker and Jedi Knight Meena Clan Skywalker,” the golden man continued. The younger Jai bowed as well.

As the droid made the introductions, the Jai Queen swept her gaze across the Elder witches, as though she were searching for a particular face, and then turned her head and looked straight at Isolder, who stood to the side with the other men of the fortress. A shiver ran up Teneniel’s spine.

“...We have been sent to your planet by the esteemed Queen Mother Ta'a Chume of Hapes,” the droid continued in the same self-important tone, “to discover the fate of her son, the Chume’da Isolder.”

Teneniel drew herself up as a murmur of surprise rushed through the crowd. If the Jai Queen had come to take Isolder from her, she would have a fight on her hands. The Jai had noticed the reaction and were watching her and her council with a canny look in their eyes.

But the droid nattered on in his self-important voice: “...our research indicates that he was lost on this planet approximately eight years ago—”

The Jai Queen said quietly: “Threepio,” and the droid stammered to a stop. “May we speak privately?” she asked Teneniel. _That was not_ how such things were done at all!

“If you wish to challenge me for Isolder,” Teneniel said icily, “Then we do it here, in front of the Clan.” She had no idea what sort of spells this woman could wield, but she would die to defend her husband.

“It’s more complicated than that,” the Jai Queen said.

“Is it? I will allow no Jai Queen, no matter how powerful, take my husband from me.” The Jai Queen’s aloof expression shifted, surprise flitting across her face for a second.

“We have no wish to resort to violence,” the golden man said, alarm in his mechanical voice. “We simply wish to discover the whereabouts—”

“Threepio,” the Jai Queen said, silencing him. “Mother Teneniel, I have no intention of challenging you now.” She gestured to the broken spear at her feet, but Teneniel didn’t miss the implication that she might do so later. “May I ask how the Chume’da Isolder ended up here, under your care?”

“Isolder’s ship crashed on Dathomir and by our laws I claimed him as my husband and rightful property.” The New Republic people liked it when you threw around talk about rights and rule of law, Teneniel knew, and she planned to back up her claim with steel and spells if it came to that.

“Was he alone? What happened to the other crew members?”

“They all died,” Isolder blurted out. “I was the only survivor.” The other men turned to stare at him.

Teneniel wasn’t sure which was more shocking, her husband speaking up without her permission or the outright lie. She felt her brow furrowing under her ceremonial helm as she stared at him. There was something hunted about his look and it stirred a protective urge within her, at odds with the need to scold him. She turned her head away from him, back to the Jai Queen. It wouldn’t do to take him to task right now.

“The Queen Mother Ta'a Chume is eager to find him,” the golden droid prattled on. “All of her heirs have been lost under tragic circumstances and the Queen Mother hopes to return Chume’da Isolder to his home and to his people.”

Isolder had told her once that he came from a family of importance on his planet. He’d been arrogant and wild then, back when she had first claimed him, and she hadn’t given his claims much thought. They were irrelevant on Dathomir soil anyway. It hadn’t prepared her for the revelation that his mother was a queen and the suggestion that his position was not insignificant. His mother had called on the Jedi for aid, after all, and the powerful spellcasters had heeded her call.

“What—what happened to Kalen?” Isolder asked, speaking up again. He had stepped forward, away from the other husbands and sons.

“He died in an accident on Bottan,” the Jai Queen said. “His wife died a few months later in the Fountain Palace in Ta’aChume’Dan.”

“Poison?” Isolder asked.

“Yes,” the Jai Queen said, and Teneniel sensed reluctance in her response. “Though there are contradictory reports on who the culprit was.” Isolder seemed unsurprised by this statement, though she could tell the news upset him.

“We have a message for Isolder from the Queen Mother Ta’a Chume,” the droid announced.

The Jai boy stepped forward, holding up a device. There were gasps through the assembled crowd as the holographic image appeared in the air in front of him; the New Republic envoys had brought holos to the valley before, but they were still rare enough to be a novelty. A woman’s ghostly form, in elaborate and beautiful robes that spoke of a luxury that Teneniel could barely comprehend, began to speak in a language Teneniel had never heard before, the foreign syllables musical and solemn.

Isolder watched, transfixed, as his mother spoke. There was a short silence after the image of the Hapan Queen had completed her speech and vanished again, broken by the occasional whispered comment in the crowd.

“She implores me to remember my duty to Hapes and return to take my place as the Chume’da,” Isolder said, his voice flat. He did not seem pleased to see his mother again. He looked at the Jai Queen. “Are things as bad as she says?”

“The Consortium has been in a state of political unrest for the last three years,” the droid announced. “There is terrible infighting among the High Houses of Hapes.”

“Two Houses are gone,” The Jai Queen said. “The House of Olanji poisoned the entire House of Thane and were banished from the Consortium. The House of Lis instigated a failed revolt six months ago, and the Per’Agthra Palace burned to the ground.”

 _“No,”_ Isolder gasped, the color draining from his face.

“Your mother’s grip on the Consortium is tenuous, and without a heir, she will soon lose any remaining support she has. It means civil war, Chume’da.”

“I don’t care what this Hapan queen says.” Teneniel glared at the Jai Queen. “The troubles on Hapes means nothing to us on Dathomir.”

“It’s his decision,” the Jai Queen said.  

“Nonsense,” Teneniel said. “Men don’t make decisions.”

“The Hapan mi—” Isolder began.

 _“Isolder,”_ Teneniel silenced him with a single word. She addressed the Jai Queen again. “I already told you: I will not let you take my husband from me. Do you really want to test the strength of the witches of the Singing Mountain Clan? We have brought down your Jai ships before, and if you attempt to steal my husband from me, we will do so again.”

It was true that witches had torn a Jai ship out of the sky once; Teneniel had seen the rotting wreck with her own eyes. But that had been before the rise of Nightsister clans, before  Gethzerion united them and turned them against the witch clans, devastating the tribes. There were so few of them left now. She simply didn’t know if they could hold their own against the unknown power of the Jai.

There was a tense pause, and then the golden man said timidly: “Perhaps—a short recess?”

Teneniel nodded in brusque acquiescence, as the Jai Queen murmured, “Thank you, Threepio.”

“We have set aside a room for you and your entourage,” Teneniel told her. “To rest until the talks resume.” One of the men stepped forward with a deep bow, indicating that he would guide the Jai through the fortress. The Jai followed without protest.

As everyone filed out of the great hall, a group of clan children passed through the corridor in front of them, and the children turned to stare curiously at the Jai strangers. Teneniel could see the lips of the witch leading them move in a spell of protection.

“Mama!” There was a shout from clan children, and Tenel Ka came running, her braids flying behind her, and leapt up into Teneniel’s arms.

Teneniel _tsked._ “You’re getting too big for that, little bird.”

But she spun the child around, raining kisses down on her pump cheeks while Tenel Ka shrieked with laughter. Teneniel had hoped that Isolder would give her many strong and powerful girls, but there had only been Tenel Ka, and Teneniel loved her more fiercely for it.

“She’s not my child,” Isolder spoke up suddenly. “Teneniel’s husband Rien gave her Tenel Ka.”

Teneniel turned to stare at Isolder, her brow wrinkling in consternation. It was such an obvious lie that the Jai wouldn’t even need magic to sniff it out. Why did it matter if the Jai Queen knew who Tenel Ka’s father was? It was irrelevant information.

“She isn’t _mine,”_ Isolder insisted.

“I understand,” the Jai Queen said. Teneniel did not understand, and she felt her anger flare up. She put Tenel Ka down and sent her off with the other children.

“My quarters,” she snapped at Isolder. She left the Jai behind and swept off to her own private rooms, Isolder trailing in her wake.

As soon as the door shut behind him, had already begun to speak: “I think we should honor the Jai Queen’s request for a private council—”

“How _dare_ you speak openly to the Jai?” She snapped. There was a moment of silence behind her, and she spun around to face him.

“I lost my head, Mother Teneniel,” he said, his body gone hunched in a man’s submissive posture. For the first time, it felt like a performance that rang false.

“You lost your head?” Teneniel gritted out, “Repeatedly? So insolently?”

“Mother Teneniel, please, I beg you, let me speak to the Jai.”

“You never told me that your mother was the Queen Mother of Hapes. You _kept things from me.”_

Isolder kept his head lowered, and when she stepped close, refused to meet her eyes. There were angles to this story he still wasn’t sharing with her, and whatever he was hiding from her sent waves of fear and distress rippling off of him. It was at times like this that she keenly missed Talas’s steadying influence—he and Isolder had been very close and he’d always been able to convince all of them to speak reasonably with each other.

“Why are you keeping secrets from me?” she said softly. Perhaps gentleness would draw him out. Teneniel slowly lifted a hand and traced the line of his perfect jaw. He really was alarmingly handsome.

“It may not even matter, if—” he began, and then stopped.

She cupped his face in her hands. “What's going on in that head of yours?” She knew he had a stubborn and willful streak and she'd be lying if she didn't admit that it had been one of the things that had attracted her in the first place, but she thought that she had tamed that wildness out of him. She had thought, after all the years that he had been hers, she had his absolute loyalty.

“Do you want to go with the Jai Queen?” she asked.

“I—don’t know. I need to speak to the Jai.”

“If I were to let you go, you would never come back.”  

“Yes,” he confirmed. “My mother has named me the—the _Chume’da._ The Prince of the Hidden Worlds. If I go, I will be wed to a woman of a high house—a woman of my mother’s choosing. I will give her children, and our daughter will become queen mother one day. This is my duty to my people: to give them a queen. There’s a saying: _Hapes is only as strong as its Queen Mother; it perseveres through the blood of her line.”_

“You have a duty to _me_.” Teneniel felt her anger rising, the dangerous temper that had nearly been her downfall in her youth. “You are _my husband.”_ She felt a pulse of rage—the urge to strike out at him and she gasped and stepped back.

When she was younger she’d had a terrible temper, one that she had to learn to control and channel. That sort of anger let the darkness take root in your heart; in giving in to her rage she would give herself to the Nightsisters.

“Teneniel,” he said softly. The gentle tone of his voice pulled her back to herself. He—and Talas and Rien, before they had been killed—had always been able to turn her face back to the light.

“I’m not giving you to the Jai Queen,” she said, but the certainty had slipped out of her voice. “How can I do this without you? After all we’ve lost?”

“Yes, Teneniel, my love,” he soothed. As a man, he had no magic, but nonetheless he had an uncanny ability to gage her temperament. He dropped to his knees, one hand at her hip, rubbing gentle circles, the other fingering the edge of her gown. “May I?”

She shouldn’t let him distract her with sex, but she nodded, suddenly unable to find the words to speak to him around the knot in her throat. She couldn’t bear the thought of losing him. She had already lost Rien and Talas.

“Let me speak to the Jai queen,” he said softly, his hand sliding slowly up her thigh.

“I’m too lenient with you,” she whispered.

He didn’t answer as he kissed her knee, hands and mouth moving further up. He still hadn’t explained himself to her. She knew this was only a distraction technique, one that men used to gain the sympathies of their wives, but she could never resist it. She let her head loll back and dug her fingers into his hair, letting his lips drive any thought of Hapes and the Jai Queen out of her head for a few blissful minutes.

 

\- -

\- -

 

They were ushered into a small guest room and as soon as their Dathomiri hosts had left them alone Mara flopped gracelessly onto one of the four pallets that ran in a row along the far wall. She closed her eyes, drawing on the Force to push away the sharp edge of a forming headache. It took a certain amount of concentration to use the Force to translate the local language, and paired with the level of tension that leaked from every Dathomiri in the hall, her head was beginning to throb.

 _Diplomacy_. It had never been her strong point. Time and again, she wished that a Jedi’s duty to the galaxy  _didn’t_ involve diplomatic missions, or that there was someone else who could take her place. But there wasn’t anyone else. She had been the only Jedi left in the wake of Palpatine’s purge, and the new order was still small enough that she didn’t have enough trained Jedi capable of handling every crisis that came up.

She’d been working on the Hapes Issue for three years, a long process of one-step-forward-two-steps-back, and it looked as though this particular mission was no exception. And in exchange for the Jedi’s help, Ta’a Chume had finally agreed to speak out against the Ni’Korish—the fanatic anti-Jedi faction that had gained traction in the Consortium and threatened the Jedi Order—but her cooperation was contingent on the Queen Mother maintaining power on Hapes, and for that she needed an heir, and she needed Isolder to provide her with one.

It was clear that Ta’a Chume had a personal distaste for the Jedi, and Mara suspected her of secretly encouraging the Ni’Korish, though they’d never been able to find any proof that the Queen Mother was enabling them. Mara didn’t trust her, but there was no higher power on Hapes to appeal to, and the amount of influence a strong Queen Mother could exert over her people couldn’t be overstated—and for the protection of her own people, Mara had a vested interest holding up her end of the agreement.

When Mara took the mission for the Queen Mother, she’d half expected to be returning to Hapes with Isolder’s remains. Instead, they’d found that Isolder hadn't died, he was married to the _kriffing leader_ of the clan. As much as marriage—essentially a form of slavery on Dathomir—meant on this backwater planet.

She sensed that Isolder himself was torn—he still cared about his home planet and felt a duty towards the people there, but he felt a sense of loyalty, perhaps even love, toward his wife and new home. And they had a daughter too, though he'd tried, badly, to hide that fact. He’d formed emotional bonds with the clan that he couldn’t easily leave behind when he returned to claim his birthright, if Mother Teneniel permitted him to leave at all. If she didn’t, they’d have to find some sort of leverage against the Dathomiri Witch. If they could prevent a war by returning Isolder to his mother, restoring the royal line of succession, then Mara would do whatever she could to make it happen.

What a nightmare.

“That didn’t get us anywhere,” Ben complained.

“We know Isolder’s alive and well,” Mara said. “Though returning him to Hapes is going to be a mess.” Even with her eyes closed, she could tell that Ben and Meena were still talking, using the smuggler’s sign language they’d learned when they’d worked for Talon Karrde. If Mara had had her eyes open, she would have rolled them. Both her children were inordinately smug about their apprenticeship with Talon.

“Stop that,” she told them. “Or I’ll have Threepio translate for me.”

“I _am_ proficient in twelve thousand sign languages—”

“Yeah, thanks, Threepio,” Ben cut him off.

Threepio had been Leia’s idea, and it had seemed like a good idea at the time. Sending a protocol and translator droid along on a diplomatic expedition made logical sense, but neither the Hapans or Dathomiri were accustomed to droids (if for very different reasons) and they tended to be dismissive of his presence rather than impressed. Mara had thought he’d appreciate the diplomatic aspects of the mission, but he’d never enjoyed being hauled off to obscure planets, and she wished they’d left him behind. He was miserable and wore out everyone's patience. When they got back to Coruscant she'd return him to the Senate offices, where he always seemed the happiest, fussing over every detail of senatorial protocol.

“Observations?” She kept her eyes shut, speaking blindly to the room. Though Ben and Meena had both been officially knighted, they still had much to learn about the diplomatic aspects of the Jedi’s service, and she’d brought them along for the experience as much as anything else.

“She sure didn't like us much,” Ben said.

“Something a little less obvious please, Ben.”

“Mother Teneniel was angry every time Isolder spoke to us,” Meena said.

“They don’t let men speak out of turn,” Ben returned sourly.

“That’s not it,” Mara said thoughtfully. “She was annoyed that he was lying to us.”

“Why?” Ben asked.

“The people here value being straightforward,” Mara said. “It’s not like Hapes.”

Ben and Meena both made a low rattling growl that was a Noghri expression of disgust. Ben added a colorful Bocce expletive for emphasis. Mara swallowed a smile. _No one_ had enjoyed the trip to Hapes.

“Master Ben!” Threepio’s voice was shocked. “Such language! And in front of your—”

“Oh, don’t worry about it, Threepio,” Mara waved blindly at the droid. “It’s a lost cause.”

“If you say so, Mistress Mara.”

"At least the food was good," she murmured, returning to the subject of Hapes. There were sounds of agreement from Ben and Meena; the food  _had_ been good. But the quality of the food hadn’t disguised the heavy feeling of desperation that lurked under the veneer of Hapan hospitality.

“She’s definitely his daughter,” Meena said, always trusted to keep them on task. “They have the same familial smell.”

Ben wrinkled his nose. “It’s creepy when you say things like that.”

“A Jedi uses every tool at her disposal,” Meena said primly.

“Of course, Miss Meena,” Threepio said. “We must be mindful of local etiquette—”

Mara interrupted them before the conversation strayed too far. “Isolder doesn’t want us to know he was a daughter, or at least,  _pretend_ we don’t know he has a daughter,” Mara prompted the two young Jedi. “Why would he hide that fact?”

“We’re here on behalf of Hapes,” Meena said slowly as she thought it over. “He doesn’t want Hapes to find out.”

“Good,” Mara said. “Why?”

“He doesn’t want them to know he’s already married?” Ben picked up the thread. “Mother Teneniel is definitely not what the Queen Mother had in mind for Isolder’s wife.”

Mara rubbed her forehead. “It’s not that, exactly,” she murmured. That felt close, but not quite right, though the thought of the Queen Mother facing Mother Teneniel Djo as her new daughter-in-law made her smile. It wouldn't come to that.

Once they were able to convince Teneniel to let Isolder go, he could simply abandon whatever local vows he'd made (or had been forced to make) here on Dathomir. Who would know? It would be the easiest solution to their problems.

And in doing so, Isolder would be forced abandon his daughter. Mara wasn’t unsympathetic—it was a choice that she herself had faced once, and she’d chosen Ben over the Rebellion and turned her back on the fight. That was a different situation anyway; she wasn’t in Isolder’s shoes, she led the Jedi now, and had to keep her sympathies out of it.

“In the long run, the destabilization of Hapes could lead to it joining the New Republic,” Meena pointed out. 

“That thought had occurred to me,” Mara said with a grimace. It was a solution, but not one she wanted to entertain. “It’s not something we could count on, and we’d be gambling the lives of everyone in the Consortium.” It could also be said that she wasn’t exactly wild about championing a hereditary monarchy after all the years she’d spent fighting for the New Republic, but letting the system fall into chaos was worse.

“Even though the Jedi are allied with the New Republic, we’re meant to be impartial judges. We’re here to represent Hapes, and we must fight for the best solution for the people we represent. That means bringing Isolder home and ending the conflict as soon as possible. If we can convince Isolder to—” She broke off as she felt a disturbance in the Force, a dark ripple that brushed across her mind. Her eyes snapped open and she sat up. “Did you feel that?”

Ben was in the middle of a sign as he and Meena looked over, guilty expressions on their faces. They shook their heads.

“It’s gone now…” Mara said. Or it had been cloaked, somehow. She’d read the New Republic brief on Dathomir, which had claimed that Dathomir was crawling with dark siders. Nightsisters. She didn’t know if Nightsisters could cloak their dark side intentions, or if the Force was warning her of some impending danger that had been diverted, or—

There was a tap at the door, and a man entered with a tray. “Mother Teneniel sent these refreshments, honored guests,” he said.

“Thank you,” Mara said.

“For the Jai Queen and her entourage,” he said with practiced formality as he placed the tray on a low table and bowed out of the room.

“So polite!” Threepio said. _“Some_ people on this planet have manners!”

It wasn’t politeness. It was subservience. Mara didn’t sense any signs of obvious abuse from him or any other the men in the fortress, though she didn’t know how other clans operated. They seemed well cared for, and no more anxious than any other the members of the tribe. But their dutiful subservience had a familiar feel to it. She herself had once been content to be shackled to the Empire, happy with her lot and ignorant of the sweetness of freedom. The fact that the issue of male servitude wasn’t Jedi business and she couldn’t get involved tugged at her conscience like the sharp teeth of an akk-dog.

The issue of Hapes took precedence, and putting a stop to anti-Jedi groups like the Ni’Korshi _was_ Jedi business. First, the matter of Isolder. Then, she was going to have a long talk with Mother Teneniel, about many things.

 


	2. Chapter 2

“Mother Teneniel has granted me the privilege to attend this meeting,” Isolder addressed the seated Jai, his frame slightly bowed in a proper gesture of deference. “And I have her gracious permission to speak freely.”

“Thank you, Mother Teneniel,” the Jai Queen said, with a slight bow of her head in Teneniel’s direction. Teneniel acknowledged the salute with a nod of her own and gestured toward Isolder to continue.

Evening was beginning fall, and the light from the setting sun created shadow mountains that ghosted across the valley before darkness fell. The rain had stopped, and the air was beginning to grow sharp and cold.

Teneniel had spoken to the Elder Sisters, arguing that since Isolder was her husband the matter was a private one, and after some debate, they had agreed. She had arranged for the second meeting with the Jai delegation to be held in a private room, the setting far less formal than the presentation in the Great Hall, though she still wore her full ceremonial garb, the ceremonial helm a comforting weight.

As a concession, Teneniel had asked that the Golden Man be removed from the talks. If she had to give ground to one male, she would not do so for another, even if he was made of metal and wires. She was also curious to see how the Jai Queen would respond to such a demand, and although the other woman had expressed her dissatisfaction with the arrangement, she agreed to the terms.

“I asked Mother Teneniel to allow me to share my story,” Isolder continued. “To explain to you all how I came to Dathomir.” He straightened as he spoke, and there was a hint of something regal in his pose, a bearing that Teneniel hadn’t seen in a long time.

Teneniel was as eager as the Jai to hear his story. She still knew so little about his life before their marriage; so little of the man he had been on Hapes. Early in their marriage, she had asked about his past, but he’d been elusive and she hadn’t pressed him. It hadn’t seemed relevant, and she hadn’t wanted her new husband to dwell on what he had lost.

“Before I came to Dathomir I was engaged to the Lady Elliar. She was… very beautiful,” he said, as though it were her only defining feature. Teneniel pitied women who were only beautiful; beauty was no good against a Nightsister. Surely she had other qualities that had attracted Isolder? He caught her eye and she realized that he knew her well enough to predict her line of thinking.

“Beauty is highly valued on Hapes,” he explained. “I choose her because she was the most beautiful woman in my mother’s court, admired above all others. I had to have her. But she lacked cunning, which is another quality that is prized on Hapes. My mother thought her weak, and my mother values strength above all. _Hapes is only as strong as its queen Mother,_ she always told me.” He paused, lost in the past for a few moments before he continued.

“Elliar was found dead, drowned, and her death was ruled a suicide, but—” Isolder shook his head. “It was an assassination—by my _mother._ I uncovered the plot and then fled from Hapes. I knew that my crew was loyal to me, not to her, and I intended to stay out of her grasp, and just fly around the galaxy...”

He trailed off wistfully. Teneniel felt a sliver of fear worm its way into her, cold as a Nightsister’s spell. If he really did long to return to the stars, could she deny him?

“We ran into an Imperial patrol in the Quelii sector, and it didn’t end well for us. Most of my crew died in the crash, and as for the rest—” he gestured at Teneniel with a familiar fond smile that didn’t quite manage to warm the cold dread she felt. “I left that world behind me. I have a wife now, and I have...”

“Tenel Ka,” the Jai Queen finished for him. “Why are you trying to hide her?”

“If I refuse to go with you, Ta’a Chume will send more agents to find me, and they will discover Tenel Ka.”

The Jai Queen frowned. “I doubt that the Queen Mother would concern herself with Teneniel’s daughter.”

Isolder made a frustrated sound. “You don’t understand. _She_ is the heir to my mother’s house. If my mother discovered her existence, she would stop at nothing to claim her. _Nothing._ She would assassinate _me_ to get her hands on a female heir. She wouldn’t even hesitate. She would steal Tenel Ka away from Dathomir and expose her to the treachery of the Hapan court.”

“I would kill that filthy drebbin myself first!” Teneniel exclaimed.

“So would I, my love,” Isolder said. “I would happily kill my own mother to save Tenel Ka. I would do anything to keep Tenel Ka out of my mother’s hands. I would do _anything._ ”

She loved him so much in that moment. She would face any queen on a battlefield for him, slaughter any Hapan who dared come for him.

He turned to the Jai Queen, his voice thick with anguish. “I—I feel deeply for my people, I do, but I would only offer myself to my mother on the condition that you swear that she never lays on hand on Tenel Ka.”

Teneniel sensed the Jai Queen hadn’t been unaffected by Isolder’s speech, though her face remained still. “My priority is Hapes,” she said slowly. “I can promise you that I won’t reveal Tenel Ka’s parentage to Ta’a Chume, but if she finds out through other sources, I can’t prioritize the safety of a single Dathomirian child.”

“You would prioritize my mother’s whims over the fate of a _child?”_

“If Hapes falls into civil war, thousands of children could lose their parents,” the Jai Queen said coldly. “They aren’t whims, Isolder. As you said, Hapes needs a dynasty it believes in if it’s going to survive.”

“I would do anything to keep my mother from discovering Tenel Ka,” he repeated, almost as if to remind himself. “If you will promise not to reveal her identity, I will go with you.”

“No!” Teneniel said. Hatred for the implacable Jai Queen stabbed through her, and she let her frustration and anger pulse out. Women had cowered in the face of her fury before, but the Jai Queen’s composure never even cracked. She blinked, a minuscule shift of her shoulders the only reaction to the rage thrumming through the air.

Isolder flinched. “Teneniel—Mother Teneniel, please—”

He was cut off by the sound of a klaxon ringing through the fortress, followed by distant shouting and the sound of commotion in the halls. Nightsister raid. She was on her feet and across the room even before Damaya burst through it. The Jai exchanged glances, confused by sudden alarm, the younger Jai standing and reaching for the silver cylinders at their waists. Isolder slipped out of the room as the captain of the war witches began her report.

“Nightsister tribe, advancing from the South,” Damaya said. “They took out the warding spells on the border and we didn’t know until they were already in the valley.”

“Has the village been evacuated yet?” Teneniel asked.

“We’re working on it. Kirana Ti’s taken charge.”

“Are the rancor pens secure?” Three years ago, the Nightsisters had poisoned all of their great war rancors, and the herd now consisted mainly of vulnerable young rancors and half-trained juveniles.

“Yes, Mother Teneniel,” Damaya said. “They aren’t targeting the rancors.”

They were after the Jai’s ship, Teneniel realized, watching the same realization come over Damaya’s face. What the Nightsisters could do once they had their hands on a ship didn’t bear thinking about.

“Finish evacuating the village,” she told Damaya. Teneniel would lead the witches down to the Jai’s ship to engage the Nightsisters herself.

“We won’t let them take your ship,” she told the Jai Queen, who had been watching the exchange intently.

“We can help,” the Jai Queen said. “The Jedi are all trained warriors.”

Teneniel didn’t quite grasp the implication at first, but when she did, she was appalled. “The _boy_ can’t join us.”

“I know he’s young,” the Jai Queen said, “But he and Meena both have years of combat training.”

Teneniel gave her an exasperated look. Had she learned nothing at all? “Men do not fight.”

“Jedi men _do_ fight. I trained him myself, and I promise he’ll fight well.”

“Very well,” Teneniel conceded. It would be foolish to shun the help of a Jai, even if he _was_ male. She would _never_ risk the life of her own son, if she had one, but it wasn’t her concern if the Jai Queen wanted to risk her son’s life in battle, as shocking as that was.

“Do you need weapons?” she asked.

“We have our lightsabers,” the Jai said as she unhooked the metal cylinder from her waist. She held it before her and a beam of green light erupted from the cylinder in her hand, an ominous hum filling the air around it. “They’ll cut through nearly anything.”

“That will do,” Teneniel said, trying not to stare.

Isolder burst through the door with her battle armor and helm in his arms. Teneniel stepped out of her ceremonial mantle and let it drop to the ground, then shucked the long lizard skin dress and handed it to Isolder in exchange for heavier hide armor. The Jai boy made a startled noise and turned his head; the alien Jai laughed at him, a low guttural sound. Her war helm was lighter and less elaborate than her ceremonial helm and perfectly fitted to the crown of her head, the metal polished to shine across the battlefield.

The three Jedi now had their strange weapons in hand, but did not appear to need any other preparations. They followed Teneniel as the war witches, their helms glittering in the torchlight, streamed out of the fortress; all of her warriors rushing toward the site of Jai’s ship. From the other side of the village, the rancors roared in anger and frustration at not being able to join the battle.

The Nightsister clan had already surrounded the ship, swarming over the sides as they searched for a way to break in. They were Barukka’s clan—she saw Damaya’s aunt Baritha, and recognized young Glywn, her face already blemished by dark magic. Barukka herself stood at the door to the ship, chanting, building a night spell powerful enough to shear through the metal of the ship.

The bright green and blue of the Jai’s weapons lit up the clearing, pulling cries of shock from the nearest Nightsisters, though it only held them back momentarily. One of the Nightsisters sprung toward the Jai Queen, swinging a spiked club at her head. The Jai Queen’s green blade sliced through the club as easily as cutting through happa butter, and a swift kick threw the Nightsister to the ground, where she slid across the rain-slicked stone.

Behind her, the flashing blades of the young Jai left streaks of blue in the dark clearing as they joined the attack. She saw Kirana Ti and Jai Meena pin down the Nightsister that had taken Azbeth’s eye, while Jai Ben caught a burst of witch lightning on the edge of his blade and sent it cracking back toward the Nightsister who had sought to strike him down. They were capable warriors, as the Jai Queen had promised.

With the ablest warriors of the clan engaged in a pitched battle, Teneniel focused on the ship, and the Nightsisters still attempting to breach the hull. She felt the song building deep within her, the words pouring loose as the air began to crackle around her. She drew gusts of wind to her fingertips until a maelstrom swirled around her. With a flick of her hand, a gust of wind tore a Nightsister off the side of the shuttle and threw her into the air, screaming.

“Teneniel!” Barukka screamed across the clearing. The mottled bruises that covered her face disfigured the familiar curve of her cheekbones and her sneer of rage rendered her almost unrecognizable. A short burst of lightning snapped from her fingers and cracked through the air toward Teneniel.

Teneniel flung up her hand, a counterspell dispersing most of the force of the lightning, but a single bolt sizzled down her arm and she hissed, her eyes watering. Lighting was not one of Barukka’s strengths, and a simple chant muttered quickly under her breath dispelled the pain.

Ferra, who had tried to attack the Nightsister while she was occupied with Teneniel, wasn’t so quick with her own counterspell, and she fell with a scream as Barukka’s lightning wrapped around her legs. Jai Ben sprang between her and the Nightsisters who would pick her off, giving her the time she needed to recover and stagger to her feet.

Singing out her commands, Teneniel struck back, summoning a gust of wind that hit Barukka directly, and the Nightsister staggered, her tattered black robes whipping around her body. Even from a distance, Teneniel could hear the dark magic spell she hissed as she regained her footing and stood tall again. She sneered across the clearing, screaming out the last line of dark magic.

It felt as though a hand had taken Teneniel by the throat. She gasped, clawing at her neck as the pressure cut off her breath. Without her voice, she couldn’t maintain her spells and the wind began to die. She sank to her knees as she fought to suck in enough air to remain conscious. She could see Barukka’s face twist into a expression of triumph, her lips still moving to wrap the spell tighter around Teneniel’s throat.

“Teneniel!” She heard the Jai Queen shout and felt the other woman lifting up the fraying ends of her spell and pulling them toward her, reweaving Teneniel’s magic without even using the words of the song. Teneniel felt the vice around her neck loosen and she sucked in a ragged breath. Barukka, realizing her choking spell had failed, began to sing a new night spell, her fingertips sparking with hints of the dark lightning she was conjuring.

Finally free from the Nightsister’s spell, Teneniel threw her head up and shouted, her spell losing a blast of power that knocked Barukka to her knees. The Jai Queen leapt forward. Her green blade flashed through the air and took off the Nightsister’s head. The body as fell to the ground, lifeless, dark magic boiling out of Barukka’s corpse and into the sky.

\- -

They took the field quickly after Barukka’s death, slaughtering every last Nightsister.

“Have the wounded brought to the great hall,” Teneniel ordered as she assessed their casualties.

“Can we help?” the Jai Queen asked. She had a small gash on her forehead that had bled down the side of her face but otherwise appeared unharmed. Most of the blood that was splattered across her clothes had once flowed through the veins of Nightsisters.

“Do the Jai have healing spells?” Teneniel asked her.

“We do.”

“Then follow me.”

None of the witches had been killed, although there were many wounded, including several near-fatalities. Shen had been stabbed three times and was nearly dead when she was brought back to the fortress. It was the Jai boy, Ben, who brought her back with a healing spell more powerful than any Teneniel had ever seen. He didn’t even sing. The Jai moved around the hall, from patient to patient, the Golden Man shuffling behind them, prattling nonsense about “ _medical regulations”_ that everyone, including the Jai, ignored.

Healing spells were always draining, and after the adrenaline rush of the battle had faded, Teneniel felt weariness creep into bones. She found a quiet corner of the hall where she could rest for a while before she needed to supervise the grim work of cleaning up the battlefield.

The Jai Queen found her there, as she sat on a low bench against the wall of the great hall. The Jai had cleaned the blood off her face and bandaged the wound on her forehead. She looked tired as well, and had lost the aloof expression she’d worn for the negotiations.

“May I join you?” she asked Teneniel, who nodded. She sat down beside Teneniel and passed her a bottle filled with a amber liquid.

“What is it?” Teneniel ran her finger along the garish offworld text on the glass.

“Some sort of liquor from Chandrila,” the Jai Queen said. “I’m not familiar with it, but it’s not bad. I think Ben snuck it onto the ship.”

Teneniel took a swig and felt the tart liquid bite the back of her throat. It was no suka wine, but it wasn't bad.

“Now that we’ve shared a drink, we don’t have to stand on ceremony anymore,” the Jai said. “Please call me Mara.”

“Is that an offworlder tradition?”

“It probably is somewhere,” Mara said with a shrug. “I’m not really a queen, anyway.”

Teneniel gave her a faint smile. “Any woman who fights by my side in battle has the right to call me sister.”

“Thank you, Sister Teneniel.”

Teneniel passed the bottle back to Mara. “Was there any harm to your starship?”

“Nothing we can’t patch up,” Mara said. “I’m just glad we didn’t lose anyone in the battle.”

“Yes,” Teneniel agreed. “Thanks to the Jai.” She inclined her head in formal gratitude.

“The Jedi have a duty to protect any sentient from dark siders,” Mara said. “We would have helped however we could.”

“I’m very grateful,” Teneniel insisted. “Our battles with the Nightsisters…don’t always go this well.” Mara passed the bottle back and Teneniel took another sip, relishing the liquor’s bite.

If not for the Jai, the battle could have gone very badly. Barukka’s clan was one of the most vicious of the Nightsister clans; no other Nightsister clan had raided the Singing Valley as often. She regretted that Mara was here to retrieve Isolder; under other circumstances she would have been eager to inquire if an alliance would be possible between the Jai and the Singing Mountain Clan, and she would have been happy to offer the Jai a boon, but she had no intention of giving them leverage to ask for her husband.

“Thank you for cutting down Barukka,” Teneniel said, passing the bottle back. “She was the cruelest of my Mother’s sisters.”

Mara looked startled. “She was your aunt?”

“Yes, that’s how it is with Nightsisters. Dark lore can seduce any of us. Mothers and sisters can fall under its sway. My grandmother, Mother Augwynne, gave her life to take down her daughter, Gethzerion, the most powerful of the Nightsisters.” That was after Gethzerion had killed Teneniel’s mother, her own sister, in the battle of Broken Pass. One day Teneniel herself would fall, and her battle leader, Damaya, was ready to take her place and lead the clan. “You say that Hapes has troubles, but things are bad here too. They have been for a long time.”

Her mother, her grandmother, and so many of her Sister Witches fallen in battle. Rien and Talas, lost in Nightsisters raids. She crossed her arms and propped them up on her knees, absently stroking the white marks on her skin. She could remember which Nightsister had inflicted each set of lightning tracks.

“I understand,” Mara said softly. They were both quiet for a while, passing the bottle back and forth between them.

“I’ve never faced a Nightsister before,” Mara said. “But there was once an order of dark Force users called the Sith. Like the nightsisters, they made it their mission to wipe out all the Jedi. Only a few Jedi survived the purge.”

Teneniel examined Mara’s face, caught in an expression of regret or grief. “Things have been hard for you as well.”

“Yes. But we survived, and passed on the ways of the Jedi, apprentice by apprentice. It’s been my mission to bring the Jedi back, for the last, oh, ten years or so.” Mara’s smile was humorless. “It wasn’t exactly what I expected to do with my life.”

“I understand,” Teneniel echoed back at her. It was hard to imagine what her life would have been like without the constant threat of the Nightsisters.

She studied the other woman as she sipped the alien liquor. _Mara_ was different from the Jai Queen who had coldly insisted, over and over again, that she sacrifice her husband for some faraway conflict. _This_ woman was a sister warrior, the kind of woman with whom Teneniel was glad to share a drink.

Mara’s gaze drifted across the hall to where her son was speaking to a young witch. He probably being propositioned, and he seemed receptive to whatever the witch was offering. Mara frowned.

"There are many witches who will pay well for your son,” Teneniel said. There were many witches who would consider him a valuable breeder and pay a fortune for a Jai husband.  

“That’s not the way Jedi do things,” Mara sighed.

The young witch was whispering something in the Jai boy’s ear now; it was a dance that Teneniel knew well, and as long as the witch didn't expect to claim the boy as her own without Mara’s permission the evening could end pleasantly for both of them.

“Letting him go... make his own mistakes,” Mara sighed, raising her eyebrows. “Hasn’t been easy.”

Teneniel frowned. “We don’t let men make mistakes here.”

The corner of Mara’s mouth twitched. “Where we come from, it’s considered healthy to let your loved ones go off to make their own mistakes… or whatever they need to do.”

The entire concept made Teneniel feel uneasy. “What good comes of that?”

“Sometimes, nothing. Sometimes, they come back wiser, or so I’ve been told,” she said the last bit with a twist of her mouth that drifted into a more melancholy expression as she continued, “Or sometimes they don’t come back at all.”

 _“That_ is not a convincing argument,” Teneniel said.

Mara snorted.

Teneniel knew that it was her job to keep her husband safe and to keep any son they might have had from doing anything that might harm him. Though she couldn’t see what was harmful about letting the Jai boy sleep with a daughter of Dathomir, and she said as much.

Mara, her attention still focused on the young pair, made a clicking sound of disapproval. “He's got a boyfriend back on Coruscant.”

“A male lover?” Teneniel asked. She was unfamiliar with the phrase Mara had used, but its meaning seemed clear enough. At Mara's hum of agreement, Teneniel explained: “Dathomiri men often grow close, but those sort of relationships are discouraged. It would distract a man from pleasing his mistress.”

“And between women?”

“Oh, that's just natural.”

Mara’s gaze drifted over to Teneniel, over her scarred arms and up to her face. She was _looking._ She hadn’t looked away when Teneniel had disrobed before the battle, a thought that made something flutter in Teneniel’s stomach. Her green eyes were very striking, and she couldn’t have been very many years older than Teneniel, the lines at the edge of those eyes still delicate. Teneniel’s eyes flicked down to her lips, as she imagined tracing them with her own.

“You would be welcome in our bed, if you wish,” Teneniel said softly. Even as she said the words she knew that it was a reckless move—to sleep with the woman who was there to take her husband from her. But their bed had seemed so empty after Rien and Talas had been killed. Isolder wouldn’t object if Mara joined them, though Kirana Ti would _never_ stop teasing her for bedding _another_ off-worlder.

“Thank you,” Mara said, offering a small smile. “Another time, perhaps.”

"Do you have a husband back on your home planet?" Teneniel asked.

Mara shook her head. "Ben's father died before he was born."

"Do you want a new man? If you'd like a Dathomiri man, It could be arranged." It was the least they could do, after the battle.

"No, thank you." Mara seemed amused. "I’ve got a man. Well, he's not mine, but... we make each other happy."

Teneniel shook her head. The affairs of off-worlders were so unnecessarily complicated.

“I should collect my children now,” Mara said and pulled herself slowly to her feet.

“Mara,” Teneniel said. Mara looked down from where she stood, poised to cross the room. “Do the Jai have dreams of foretelling?”

“We do,” Mara nodded. “I don’t have any particular talent for interpreting precognitive visions,” she said. “But I’ve had dreams, and there have been times when I could sense… moments—events—approaching that could change the course of my life.”

“Yes, it feels like that!—but—I don’t know.” She faltered, unable to articulate what she had sensed.

She had thought the dream that morning had heralded the trouble that Mara brought with her to Dathomir, but the feeling hadn’t left her, filling her with a sharp sense of anticipation, the sense of _something_ on the brink. It felt like deep magic, like she could unlock it if only she knew the right spell.

“We’ll talk in the morning,” Mara said.

“Yes,” Teneniel agreed. “Thank you.”

She watched Mara cross the hall and retrieve her children, Jai Ben reluctantly leaving the young witch to follow his mother back to the guest quarters they’d been assigned, Jai Meena accompanying them.

Suddenly, Isolder was there, pulling her to her feet and holding out a silver cup. Ysill cordial. Her favorite. “I’ve drawn a bath, my love,” he said as he draped a wrap around her. “Please come to the bathhouse while the water is still hot.”  

He looked regal in the warm torchlight. She loved him so much it felt like it might burst out of her chest, like a spell gone wild. He flickered in her vision, and she could almost see him in his far-off palace, dressed in Hapan finery and gleaming like the sun.

A dream of foretelling.

Like all such visions, clarified her purpose and provoked questions, and hinted at another solution, one that neither the Jedi nor Isolder had offered.

“What do you want, Isolder?” she said softly. It was a question she had never asked him before.

“I _want_ you to come to the bathhouse before you fall asleep on your feet,” he said, exasperated, doting, and deliberately obtuse. How could she ever let him go?

_“Isolder.”_

He fussed with the wrap, securing the edges around her. “I just want you and Tenel Ka to be _safe,”_ he said quietly. There was nowhere that was safe. The Nightsisters threatened to overwhelm them, and now they had to contend with the threat of his mother and her people.

“I would like to help my people,” he went on, “and… I would like to see my home planet again. But you mean more to me than all of Hapes.”

“I’ll find a way,” she promised him.

His smile was sad, as though he didn’t believe her, and she allowed him to lead her out of the hall to the baths, setting aside her duties for a few hours until morning broke.

\- -

Once it was light enough, the battleground around the Jai ship had to be properly cleared and spells sung to purge the village of any lingering dark magic. Teneniel oversaw the rituals that followed the burning of the bodies of the Nightsisters, the helm of her ritual mantle dark with the ash of many fires as she paced around the pyre, the mournful sound of cleansing chant rising in the air.

Men were banned from those ceremonies, and so Isolder met her, as expected, at the edge of the village with a cloak to cover her exposed arms from the chill. He made a sound of dismay as he lifted her hands and turned them to examine the ash under her fingernails. He could be so fussy about the oddest things.

“Don’t pay it any mind,” she said. He turned her hands again so that he could kiss her palms, his fingers rubbing gently across her wrists.

“The Jai Queen asked again when you wish to meet her to—to discuss my fate,” he said, his eyes darting up to her face, tension in his frame as waited for her answer.

The day had slipped away while she’d been occupied with rituals and other post-battle business. Now she was too tired to engage in debate and she still had many things to attend to before the day was over.

“Tomorrow morning,” she said, twisting her hands so that she could weave her fingers into his. “I’ll tell her myself.”

It gave her more time to think over the proposition she meant to offer the Jai. As exhausted as she had been after the battle, she hadn’t slept much the night before, her mind churning through what few options she had. At least with the Nightsisters, she knew what they faced; she had no idea how to ward against a Hapan force, if the Queen Mother did indeed come to claim Isolder. A decision would have to be made before it came to that.

She felt more at ease with the Jai Queen— _Mara_ —since the battle, though she’d only spoken to the other woman briefly that morning. She didn’t think the other woman would object to the delay. Perhaps she’d have the chance to speak to Mara over dinner before they slipped back into roles they had to play for their people.

\- -

Since Mara preferred to meet privately, she called the Jai to the same private room as before, the same circle of chairs set for the conclave. Isolder sat to her left, radiating a sense apprehension so thick that Teneniel felt as though she could taste it in the air. Mara sat across from Teneniel, her hands folded in her lap, her face arranged in the inscrutable mask of the Jai Queen again, waiting for Teneniel to begin. Teneniel took a breath; there was no sign of encouragement on Mara’s face.

”I have decided I allow you to return Isolder to Hapes,” Teneniel announced. Isolder made a shocked sound which Teneniel ignored, her eyes on Mara. “But if he goes, I go too. I will relinquish my duties as leader of the Singing Mountain Clan to Sister Damaya, and I will go where my husband goes.” She risked a quick glance at Isolder, taking in the slack look of shock on his face, before turning back to the Jai.

“The wife of the Chume’da is the heir to the Hapan throne,” Mara said slowly, as if to give each word weight. “You wouldn’t just be Isolder’s wife. You would be entering Hapes as the future queen mother.”

“I understand that,” Teneniel said, though she knew it was possible that she didn’t quite understand what she was agreeing to undertake; Isolder’s consternation was evidence enough that there were pitfalls she couldn’t comprehend. “If that is the price, so be it.”

“But what of Tenel Ka?” Isolder’s face twisted. “Do you think we can protect her from my mother?” He was angry with her, she realized in surprise. “Even if we’re both there, she’ll find some way to snatch Tenel Ka away. You don’t know what she’s capable of.”

“We won’t be taking Tenel Ka with us,” Teneniel said.

“Then she’ll find her here! She’ll send spies—”

 _“Isolder,”_ she said. He fell silent at the command. “Jai Mara, will the Jai accept _any_ spellcaster into their order?” She hadn’t discussed this with the Jai yet, but she was already sure of Mara’s answer.

“We do,” Mara said.

“And forming an alliance with another clan who uses magic would be beneficial to the Jai, would it not?” Clan alliances were the only reason the witches had resisted the Nightsisters for so long.

Mara nodded. “Yes. The Jedi Order still small and we’d welcome an alliance with your clan.”

“Tenel Ka will go with the Jai,” Teneniel said. “She will train in their ways. Your mother cannot touch her as long as she is under the protection of the Jai.”

She turned to Isolder, who looked as if he didn’t know what to make of her pronouncement. “We’ve talked before about sending her to train with the Dreaming River Clan.” It wasn’t unusual for young spellcasters to be sent to other clans for training, a tradition that helped to strengthen bonds between the clans. Tenel Ka was still very young and Teneniel had hoped they wouldn’t have to send her so soon, but if Hapes was going to be a threat, then it was best to put her out her out of Ta’a Chume’s reach as soon as possible. “We’ve witnessed the power and influence of the Jai. They can protect their own.”

“It’s a solution,” Mara conceded.

“And you would keep her safe from Ta’a Chume?”

“We would.” Although Mara hadn’t sung a binding oath, Teneniel could feel the weight of magic behind her words. “Though we have conditions. We will agree to train and protect Tenel Ka if you will use your influence to foster communication between the New Republic and Hapes and Dathomir. You will put a stop to the Ni’Korish, protect Force-sensitives, and promote the Jedi on Hapes.”

“That's a reasonable request.” She’d pay any price to keep Tenel Ka safe, and she wanted to keep the Jai as allies regardless.

“It will bring changes to Hapes and Dathomir,” Mara warned. “In the New Republic, men are equal citizens.”

“I’ll do what I can,” Teneniel amended. “It will take time.”

“Then I accept,” Mara said. “The Jedi would welcome Tenel Ka, or any of the witches of Dathomir who wanted to train with us.”

“If we don’t have any Hapan babies, we will call Tenel Ka back to Hapes once her Jai training is complete.” With the wisdom of her Dathomiri mothers and the skills of the Jai, what a clan mother she would make! Isolder’s odious Hapan mother wouldn’t be able to match Tenel Ka, Teneniel was sure of that.

Isolder still looked worried. “You don’t know the danger of the Hapan court, my love,” he said. “Hapes is nothing like Dathomir—”

Isolder stopped at the cold look Teneniel gave him. “Have you forgotten who I am, husband? I have battled the Nightsisters my entire life, and killed many of them with my own hands.”

“No one doubts your courage, Teneniel,” Mara said. “But Isolder may have a point; you’d be throwing yourself into an incredibly complicated political situation. Battles are fought differently on Hapes.”

To show any doubt now before the Jai would be a mistake. “I’ve kept my clan safe for many years; I have fought back the Nightsisters and brokered treaties with other clans. I kept my people alive through long, hard winters. I know what it is to be a queen.”

Isolder barked with laughter. “I have already done my duty as Chume’da! I have found the next queen mother of Hapes!”  

“Are you sure, Teneniel?” Mara said quietly. “Are you _certain_ you want to leave behind your clan and give up Tenel Ka?”

Teneniel closed her eyes. Giving up Tenel Ka would be like cutting out a piece of her heart, but she would do it without regret if it kept her daughter safe. When she opened her eyes, Isolder was kneeling in front of her, her hands gripped in his own.

“Teneniel,” his voice was rough, eyes bright. “You’ll sacrifice everything...”

“For you,” she said. “I will give it all up for you.”

\- -

Her hand pressed to the cold glass of the viewport, Teneniel watched Dathomir curve below her as Mara’s ship rose away from the planet’s surface, the Singing Mountain disappearing in a wash of green as the ship accelerated into the atmosphere. For the first time, she saw her homeland from the sky, the blue fading away to the dark of the star-spatted space.

Fear washed over her like a sudden winter shower as the beautiful blue and green orb began to shrink as the ship moved further and further away.

“Mara?” she called, her voice sounding small beneath the roar of the ship’s engines.

She heard the other woman move down the hallway toward her from the direction of the cockpit, where Isoder sat beside Jai Ben, Tenel Ka on his lap. When Teneniel had left the cockpit to stare through the aft viewport, Isolder had been quietly explaining each step Jai Ben took to fly the ship, Tenel Ka listening with rapt attention. She felt the other woman come to her side, felt the calming brush of her presence. “Yes, Teneniel?”

“Will I still be able to use the magic? Even though I’ve left Dathomir?” _Mother Allya sang the magic of Dathomir out of the earth and into the blood..._

“Yes, of course, you’ll always be able to touch the Force.”

“Even on Hapes?”

“Always.”

Teneniel let her hand fall away from the window, though she couldn’t tear her gaze away from the black void swallowing up the now-tiny planet, her neck craning as the ship turned away from Dathomir. She watched until the view was lost in the blue streaks of hyperspace.

The rest of the trip was tedious.

They docked for a short time on a small, unremarkable planet where Mara had arranged for another ship to meet them to take Tenel Ka to the Jedi Temple on the planet of Coruscant. Mara herself would escort Teneniel and Isolder to Hapes herself in the ship they’d flown from Dathomir.

Teneniel was unimpressed by the shabby spaceport, and tried not to gawk at the aliens and free men who wandered openly in the public space. An even larger, boxy ship landed beside Mara’s, and a tall man, his hair greying, met Mara at the top of the ship’s ramp. Teneniel watched as Mara kissed him briefly before speaking to him in low tones out of earshot of the rest of the company. This must be the man that was Mara’s, and wasn’t—whatever that meant.

“Hullo Clan-Dad,” Jai Ben called, waving, receiving a raised eyebrow in return. Jai Meena skipped up the ramp and began to speak animatedly to Mara’s companion as they stepped inside the ship. Mara came back down the ramp and stood beside Jai Ben, who had Tenel Ka’s small bag of belongings hoisted over his shoulder. It was time for their goodbyes.

Tenel Ka didn’t cry. Isolder did, weeping freely as he embraced his daughter, whispering promises that he would see her again one day. Teneniel made no such promises.

“My brave little bird,” she whispered as she held Tenel Ka’s face in her hands, memorizing the round little cheeks and bright eyes, the curve of her nose, and the way her red curls fell around her shoulders. Tenel Ka’s chin wobbled, but she held her mother’s gaze with a courage that made Teneniel’s heart ache. “I love you.” She kissed Tenel Ka’s forehead, and then turned her away.

Jai Ben took Tenel Ka’s hand and led the little girl up the large ship’s ramp, and shortly thereafter, they watched as the machine rose from the ground and lifted into the sky. Isolder fled back to Mara’s ship, while Teneniel watched until it disappeared from sight.

Mara stood beside her as she gazed up at the point where the ship had vanished. “I think you’re doing the right thing,” she said softly.

“Because suits your mission,” Teneniel said, knowing the other woman could feel the jagged edges of her anger and grief. “Of course you think it’s the right thing.”

“Teneniel—no,” Mara said. “The Force—the magic—if we listen to it, it can guide us. We can _feel it_ when we do what’s right.”

Teneniel pondered Mara’s words as she stared up at the sky. “Through dreams,” she said. “Dreams of foretelling show us the path.”

“Yes,” Mara said. “They’ve given you a new path, but I feel that it’s the right one for you.”

 

\- -

\- -

 

Not a single leaf dared to be out of place in the pristinely sculpted gardens of the Summer Palace on Hapes, manicured flower beds and reflecting pools stretching as far as Mara could see in every direction. The gardens were considered a work of art on Hapes, though one that only the High Houses could enjoy, when they took time from their ceaseless backstabbing to stroll along the wide boulevards or sit beside artificial ponds stocked with exotic fish from across the Consortium. The gardens were dotted with meticulously maintained groves and gazebos, where more intimate assignations could take place away from the constant surveillance of the Palace guard. Mara let her feet carry her unerringly through a maze of hedges blooming in a riot of gaudy colors to a secluded gazebo in a far corner of the gardens. Mara had been in houses smaller than the gazebo; she’d _lived_ in a hut smaller than the gazebo for a few months on Corsin.

There she found the new Queen Mother, hiding. She was seated on a marble bench that curved around a fountain set in the center of the gazebo, staring blankly at the softly bubbling water. The skirts of the gold dress she wore billowed out from her waist and fell to her feet, and her veil, heavy with lace, was bunched up on her head so that her face was exposed. She started at the scrape of Mara’s boot across the threshold of the gazebo, reaching for the edge of her veil to draw it back over her face, but she relaxed when she recognized Mara, her hand dropping back onto her lap.

“Mara,” she said warmly, reaching out to clasp the Jedi’s hand in her own as Mara sat on the marble bench near her.

“It’s good to see you, Teneniel,” she said. They’d already had a dozen meetings and audiences within the palace, under the watchful eyes of servants, security, and spies, but they hadn’t had the opportunity to meet as friends. “How are you holding up?”

“It’s more horrible than I expected,” Teneniel sighed. “The noble houses are a pack of spoiled children, and they expect me to abide by a million stupid rules—I must speak this way, and stand this way—as if any of it’s worth a rancor’s fart.” She ran a finger across her cheek and held it up, a expression of disgust on her face. “Every day they _paint me.”_

Mara laughed.

“You can’t even _see_ my face under all the _uffink_ veils they drape over me!” Teneniel batted at a edge of the gauzy material that threatened to slip out of the pile she’d heaped on her head.

Both the Hapan Noble Houses and common people had rejoiced upon Isolder’s return to Hapes and had supported him in his claim to overthrow his mother and place a new Queen Mother on the throne. They hailed her as Kish’Chum’ta: _the queen from the stars._

It came as a complete shock to Ta’a Chume. She had expected a son humbled by his time among the savages of Dathomir and grateful for his mother’s rescue, not the powerful woman from Dathomir who unseated her. Everyone knew that if Ta’a Chume had even suspected that outcome, she would have never sent Mara to recover Isolder. There were rumors that she would have let her whole house fall rather than hand governance of it over to Teneniel. It had not helped Ta’a Chume’s already tenuous reputation.

By all accounts, the Hapans didn’t know quite what to think of Teneniel once they’d set her on their throne. The revelation that she had the powers of a Dathomiri witch, and was an outspoken proponent of the Jedi, had been a nasty surprise to the High Houses, who towed the line with a combination of fear and awe.

The diplomatic meetings over the last couple of days to settle the terms of an alliance with the New Republic had been met with mixed feelings by the Hapans; there were many who saw the sense in an alliance with the New Republic as a means to bolster recovery efforts after over three years of unrest, but the Hapan distrust of foreigners ran deep.

“The food is very good,” Teneniel conceded.

Mara snorted. On that, everyone could agree.

“And Isolder is...” Teneniel seemed to struggle for the right word. _“Comfortable_ —here.”

Mara understood her meaning. “He’s come home.”

“I don’t think I understood that before, not really. Now I see a side of him here that I’d never seen before. He has a talent for dealing with these Hapan women,” She gestured as she spoke, hands moving through the air as she warmed to her topic. “I don’t _how_ he does it, but he’s so skillful! I can never understand their double-speak, but he always knows exactly what to say, how to _command_ the House.” Her cheeks flushed underneath the cosmetics. “It’s—it’s very attractive.”

“He’s your husband, Teneniel,” Mara said dryly. “You’re allowed to find him attractive.”

“Those are not the qualities of a good Dathomiri husband,” Teneniel said primly.

“Ah, but this is Hapes,” Mara said with a wry smile. “You have a Hapan husband now.”

“I do,” Teneniel said, shrugging though she didn’t quite know what to make of the whole thing.  “I am glad he’s happy,” she continued. “Though he misses Tenel Ka. Thank you for the holos.”

Mara couldn’t bring Tenel Ka with her to Hapes, not yet, but she could bring holos that her family had helped the little girl record, chronicling her daily accomplishments as she adapted to Coruscant and began her training as a Jedi.

“She looks well…” Teneniel rubbed her face, smearing her makeup. For a moment, grief shimmered around her like one of her veils. Mara caught her hand again and squeezed it in reassurance.

When she’d composed herself again, Teneniel continued. “The Queen Mother is… like a goddess to the Hapans. I must not show my people my grief or my joys.” She was silent for a moment, her face set on the gardens before them, her eyes distant. “If I must be a goddess, I will be an implacable goddess. The only emotion I will show that of a mother that is angry at her children’s disgraceful behavior.”

“From what I’ve heard, it’s working.” There was a chance that it could all fall apart, that Teneniel could lose her command of the High Houses and the respect of her new people, and Hapes would be plunged back into the instability that had threatened it before. But Mara didn’t think she would. There was a new line on the Hapan throne, whether the Hapans were ready for it or not.

“At least none of them are Nightsisters,” Mara added wryly, attempting to lighten the mood.

Teneniel made a dismissive click of her tongue. “Any one of them would wet their pants if they were faced with an _actual_ Nightsister.”

Mara cocked her head. “I don’t know, I think Ta’a Chume might actually get along with the Nightsisters.”

“That woman is a viper and I intend to execute her one day,” Teneniel said.

“Ereneda,” a voice called. They looked up to see one of the Queen Mother’s handmaidens standing at the edge of the gazebo. Their private meeting was over. Teneniel stood, letting the veils fall back over her face.

“Jai Mara Jade,” she said, with the cold formality of the Queen Mother. “Thank you for your many services to Hapes. May your path be true and your enemies suffer."

Mara bowed. “May the Force be with you, Queen Mother.”

The servant shot Mara a dirty look as she swept off after the Queen Mother. The Ni’Korish may have been disbanded, but Jedi still weren’t welcome on Hapes. A nest of vipers, indeed.

Mara sat again, closing her eyes and tipping her head back, enjoying the warmth of the summer sun on her face. She could see why Teneniel had fled to the gardens—out here she could catch a moment of peace before she returned to managing the vicious Hapan court. 

“Mom?” She heard Ben approach. “We have to get ready for the evening reception.”

 _Another one?_ She bit back the complaint, only letting an exasperated rush of air escape.

“I’ll be there in a moment,” she said instead, and then reconsidering, “Call Talon when you get back to our rooms. I want to get the kriff out of this place.”

“Sure, Mom,” Ben said, and she could hear the grin in his voice as he turned back to the Palace. She let a few more moments slide by before she rose to her feet again. 

Back to work. 

 


End file.
